


The Booboo

by mcgarrygirl78



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 18:22:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2438438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two steps forward, three steps back, with a step and a half to the side…that was how this relationship rolled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Booboo

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a suggestion by [](http://katewallace.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://katewallace.livejournal.com/)**katewallace** for last Tuesday’s comment fic, **‘Hotch and Prentiss working late’**.

“Oh my God, shit, shit!” Emily dropped the folders, papers scattering everywhere. She let out a cry and Hotch got up from his desk, rushing over to her.

“What happened, Prentiss; are you alright?”

“Oh my God, paper cut from hell. Ow, ow, shit, shit shit!”

Hotch took hold of her hand but Emily snatched it back. She shook her head.

“No, don’t touch it! Ouch! Do not touch it!”

Hotch started to laugh. It was a sweet, gentle sound and Emily was sure she’d never heard it before. He took her hand again. She loosened up enough to let him look at the side of her index finger. It was a paper cut. It was deep and she was bleeding.

“Come over to my desk.”

They were there late on paperwork duty. It was always about paperwork but the rest of the team couldn’t take it anymore so they bailed. One by one they were gone until it was just JJ, Hotch, and Prentiss. Hotch sent JJ home about a half hour after everyone else. He always felt such guilt about keeping her away from Henry as much as he did already.

That left him and Emily. They took the remaining stacks from the conference room, where they had been working as a team, to his office. They'd been in there about twenty minutes. Hotch was working at his desk while Emily managed to make his couch seem comfortable.

He grabbed the First Aid kit from the side drawer, opening it with one hand. The other one still held Emily’s. Hotch grabbed a peroxide wipe, tore the paper off, and cleaned the blood. Then he took a Band-aid, a bit of Neosporin, and wrapped it around her finger. Without a second thought, he held the finger to his lips and kissed it.

“How's that?”

“I don’t know Hotch, it still kinda hurts.” Emily held it in front of him again. “Maybe another kiss will take the soreness away.”

“You're worse than Jack.” He replied, dimples coming out of their hiding place as he complied with her wishes.

“I think this might be a game ending injury.” She said, shaking her finger to try and shake off the pain. “I didn’t need much more reason to get the hell out of here. Its time to go home.”

“You probably shouldn’t be driving with that finger.” Hotch replied. “The cut is pretty deep; the steering wheel is just going to put added pressure on it.”

“You have a better idea?”

“I’ll drive you. It’s the only logical choice.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay and tackle some more of this paperwork?” Emily asked.

“I'm positive. Anyway, it’s my fault you got cut…I left that stack of folders on the end of the table.”

“I’ll take your guilt.” She managed a smile.

“Go and get your stuff. I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

Emily nodded, leaving the office. Hotch watched her go and then went about cleaning up the folders and papers off the floor. He flinched at the sight of her blood on one of them. It wasn’t a lot but he left that stack of papers on the table in a paper clip before folding the folder up and putting it in the trash.

***

“Rain wasn’t supposed to be in the forecast tonight.” Hotch said, getting off the highway at the DC exit.

“What?” Emily wasn’t paying attention to him but to Bad English on the radio. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard this song.

“I didn’t know it was supposed to rain tonight.”

“It’s September in DC; it’s always raining. It pretty much rains until Christmas and then we get some occasional snow. Welcome to the swamp.”

“Yeah.” Hotch smirked. “How's that finger feeling?”

“Sore, I really got myself good. Damn folders.”

He didn’t say anything else and she was glad. This song had always been one of her favorites and she just wanted to listen to it. Emily missed the days when she used to go to work and then go home. She would relax in her apartment, whatever city she was in at the time, and turn on the local cheesy love song station. Yes, Emily Prentiss, Goth girl, emo chick, had a secret obsession with cheesy love songs.

From Journey to Toto and every one hit wonder in between, she probably knew the lyrics to them all. When she moved to DC to live with her father and stepmother to finish high school, she used to love taking mushrooms and listening to bad love songs. Healthy, no, but plenty of things in her past weren’t exactly healthy. She wondered what Hotch would say if she told him that story. She’d seen disapproval in his eyes in the past…she wasn’t in the mood for it tonight.

“Wow, someone blew the dust off this record.” Hotch said as Breathe replaced Bad English. “This is a great song.”

“You're a Breathe fan?” Emily looked at him, not bothering to hide her surprise.

“What?”

“A Breathe fan, Hotch; you like the band that sings this song?”

“I just love the song. I honestly never remembered who sang it.”

“Oh.”

 _Give me time to care, the moments here for us to share_  
Still my heart is not always there  
What more can I say to you?  
Could I lie to you, I'm just too weak to face the truth?  
Now I know I should make a move  
What more can I say?  
How can I fall, how can I fall  
When you just won't give me reasons  
When you just won't give me reasons, at all

Hotch slowed down as he crossed the light and approached The Watergate. He flicked on his turn signal and headed for the underground parking lot. It was raining pretty steady and he didn’t want Emily to get wet rushing out of his truck and into her building. She reached into her bag, pulling out her parking swipe. He ran it through, handed it back, and waited for the barrier to lift.

Finding a parking space was no problem, though Emily seemed to be sorry she was missing the rest of the song. Hotch liked it too and it had been a long time since he heard it. Still, tonight it made him think about something he didn’t want nor need to be thinking about. It was better for them to lose the signal.

“Let me help you get out.” He said, taking off his seatbelt and getting out of the car.

He went around and opened Emily’s door. She smiled when he held out his arm for her to take hold of.

“Chivalry isn’t dead.” She said with a smile. “I’ll have to alert the masses.”

“My mama would skin me alive if she even suspected I wasn’t doing the gentlemanly thing and walking a lady to her door.”

“I can appreciate that.”

They got on the elevator and Hotch pushed three. The ride was short; soon they were walking down the hall and standing in front of Emily’s door. She fished her keys out of her bag, grimacing at her sore finger. But she got them out and let herself in. George jumped up on the kitchen counter and loudly mewled when he saw them.

“Oh cut it out, Furball, you’ve never been hungry a day in your life.”

Hotch smirked, stopping to pet the cat’s head. George appreciated the sentiment so he licked Hotch’s hand.

“Great,” Emily rolled her eyes. “Now he’s taking you over to the dark side.”

“He is cute. I've never really been a cat person.”

“Neither am I. You might want to tell my mother that the next time you see her.”

“I think I’ll do no such thing.” Hotch replied.

“Yeah I bet.” She smiled. “I appreciate you looking after me and bringing me home, Hotch. If you don’t mind though, my finger is pretty sore, it’d be a big help if um…you could help me undress.”

Hotch’s face remained neutral as he looked at her. Emily turned away from him and headed through her living room and up the stairs. He hardly had a moment to think before he was following her.

***

Hotch hummed against Emily’s skin as he kissed her collarbone. A giggle rose from her diaphragm and that just made him hungrier for her. He had to pull away, take a moment to collect himself before he marked her. He’d done it before and she was not too pleased about it. Hotch wasn’t sure if that was because she didn’t want to be marked or if she didn’t want to be marked where anyone could see. He’d left little secret scars in the past and that seemed to turn her on. The day Morgan happened to see one…not so much.

“How’s your finger?” he asked, pulling her close for more passionate kisses.

“It feels good; everything feels good.”

They rolled on the mattress, Hotch’s nimble fingers working the front clasp on her bra as she relaxed underneath him.

“You're so beautiful. You're the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Sweet talker.” Emily caressed his face.

“I mean it.” His hands cupped her breasts. “You are so sexy and beautiful. You drive me crazy.”

“Maybe I should offer to let you help me undress more often.”

“I'm a public servant…it’s my job to help.”

Her kisses were softer, Hotch knew playtime was over. It was always a good thing; foreplay with Emily was always a satisfying venture. But there was much more to explore and he was definitely ready for part two of their evening together. What little they were left wearing, her panties and his boxer briefs, came off before they slipped under the covers. He liked being trapped under the quilt with Emily, her thighs wrapped around him. He loved to lose himself in her, her heat, and the sounds of desire and then satisfaction that she always made.

It felt like it had been too long since they'd been like this. Two steps forward, three steps back, with a step and a half to the side…that was how this relationship rolled. And with Hotch not having much rhythm, he frequently tripped over his own feet. Emily wanted to be more to him than a romp in the sack. Though she had to admit that when they made love it was like Heaven on Earth.

She’d had her fair share of lovers over the years. Some were serious, many were just the opposite. Hotch was her favorite. One had come close but she was so young then, licking wounds that she thought would never heal. With Hotch it was like being with someone who had always known her.

He knew how to touch her, what to say to her, how to make her cry out his name. Emily never once told him where to go; he found it on his own. The first time had been a little awkward, par for the course, but every time since was better and better. Now she just had to find a way to translate the intensity of the bedroom into the real world.

“Oh God, Aaron.” Emily’s back arched as he thrust deep inside of her. She gripped his hips as she groaned. “Oh yeah, mmm, that’s it.”

“Oh baby, damn you feel so good.”

He’d never been much of a talker until he became her lover. She changed him in so many ways; some Hotch wasn’t quite ready for. This wasn’t the first time they’d been together, or the third, or the twelfth. But he was still unsure how he was going to bring his feelings for Emily Prentiss into something other than the bedroom. He didn’t want her to think he just wanted one thing.

He wasn’t a ‘one thing’ kind of man. He wanted her wholly. He had for much longer than he’d been allowed to sample her body. Sometimes his feelings for her scared him. He’d been in this position before, crazy about a girl. He spent more than half of his life with the last one.

But that was over, and the scars were still there for him to see. Would Emily hurt him too? Would she drive him to the edge of ecstasy and then cut him off at the knees? It was a fear. Not that he felt anything but bliss now as he drove himself in and out of her hot, writhing body.

As she gripped him, moaned, and begged for more, Hotch found that all he could do was match her sentiment and take her there. He wanted them to fall together…to feel that feeling that you couldn’t feel with just anyone. She was much more experienced than he, which was something he hated to think about. But knowing that he could make her feel as if nothing else in the world mattered but her satisfaction eased that tension some.

“Emily, Emily, oh God, Emily. Emily!”

His fingers laced through hers as they started to fall through the clouds. Hotch held her close, moaning her name as their bodies trembled and shook. The whole room was spinning out of control and the sound of his name from her lips in rapture caused Hotch to let go. Then there was silence.

It was a beautiful silence of ragged breaths and mingled flesh. Hotch was breathless as he sprinkled kisses across her throat. He could feel her pulse beneath his lips; that turned him on. He knew the fact that he was still deep inside of her excited Emily. The way she stroked her hands down his spine made him think this evening’s festivities were far from over. That suited Hotch just fine.

“Emily?”

He broke the silence some time later while they were spooning in bed. Hotch knew she wasn’t asleep, had been here enough times with her to know her body sleeping and awake.

“I need a smoke.” She climbed out of bed, wrapping herself in his dress shirt. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“I'm not allowed to question the rules of your house.” He replied.

“Is that why you never complain when George joins us?” She smiled as she lit a Ziganov cherry vanilla clove and deeply inhaled.

“It’s a little weird but with what we do for a living I've seen weirder.”

“My cat likes to watch us make love…I would call that weird.”

“Will you have dinner with me?” Hotch asked, turning the conversation.

“Yes.”

“I probably should've asked a long time ago.”

“Are you feeling sorry for me? You know, because of the injury and all.” Emily held up her finger.

“Something like that.”

“I’d love to have dinner with you, Aaron.”

“We’ll go somewhere nice this weekend. I'm thinking somewhere small and intimate where we can talk without being disturbed.”

“That sounds nice.” Emily smiled. She turned away from him, looking out the rain soaked window as she engaged in her nightly clove ritual. She usually had a cup of tea or a glass of wine to relax but she was feeling pretty damn good right now.

She felt better when Hotch slipped out of bed and wrapped her in his arms. Emily sighed, leaning her body on his. He was so perfect for leaning, hard and soft in all the right places. And in his arms she felt secure. She felt comfortable, something she hadn't felt in too long to recall.

“I should tell you more often how much you mean to me.” He whispered.

“I'm not going to argue with that.”

“I’ll start this weekend.”

“No, you should start right now.” She said.

“Yeah?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Come back to bed…we’ll talk about it.”

“We’re gonna talk in bed?” she raised her eyebrow. “Forgive me if I find that a little unbelievable.”

“OK, so we’ll talk right here.” Hotch moved over to the chair, pulling her down on his lap. Emily took one more puff before putting out her clove. She slipped her arms around Hotch’s neck. “How do I adore Emily Prentiss; let me count the ways.”

***

  



End file.
